


you pull me into you (slowly, little by little)

by Anonymous



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Delivery Boy Huang Renjun, Idol Na Jaemin, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, i cannot believe that wasn't a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jaemin’s eagerness encourages Renjun’s attempts at turning him down. Their personalities — a perfect match. Jaemin is always left wanting more and Renjun has his fun playing hard to get.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: jaemin bday exchange





	you pull me into you (slowly, little by little)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jenomeow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenomeow/gifts).



> happy birthday to the boy with stellar skies for eyes and smiles as sweet as cotton candy, jaemin ／(^ᆺ^)＼
> 
> **— for isis:**
> 
> hello! i truly hope you enjoy my takeaway of your prompt. i am having a blast writing this piece for you. ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭♡
> 
> _loosely based on ong seongwu's track,[gravity](https://open.spotify.com/track/7AJ2rEaM0kYulj33j7xemp?si=ugg4r07CT52V0y0MNrmvfQ)_

Guarded by the walls surrounding his apartment, Jaemin seems to breathe. He relishes in the luxury of silence — something that his job rarely offered him. 

Many desire the flash of the cameras — but only a few survive the consequences the applause brings into their lives. Because fame is fleeting if you don’t work for it — if you aren’t willing to make the sacrifices to achieve it.

Jaemin can say he is one of the survivors, although more often than not, being under the spotlight feels like a burden — a comfortable, yet hefty weight on his shoulders.

He can remember being younger, telling every adult he ever met _“hey, one day that’ll be me on the music shows”_ — he can remember his dream being disregarded with a pat on the head and a chuckle by those who were supposed to be his number one source of comfort and support.

However, the lack of enthusiasm from those surrounding him is what fuels him to try his very best until the day he finally succeeds. 

And succeed he did. The cameras — Jaemin is always ready for them. The stylists make sure he’s never caught with a hair out of place nor a single sign of his eye bags whenever he is outside. His manager is there to remind him to smile and be polite at all times — ever ready to be the impeccable idol he was trained to be.

And even if sometimes he sort of feels as if he is leading a double life — Jaemin wouldn’t trade it for the world.

There aren’t many differences between the _real_ Na Jaemin and the one people get to see on their screens. 

The Na Jaemin reserved for him and himself only is a twenty-year-old boy who enjoys lazing around in bed whenever he has a day off. A boy that can’t be bothered to plan out his outfit for the rare occasion in which he has the chance to sneak out to the nearest convenience store to grab a late-night snack. A boy that lives to watch the cheesy dramas he only wishes that someday, he has the chance to star in.

Jaemin, the one who is currently lounging on the couch in the living room, nursing a cup of slightly bitter coffee doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels lonely.

Not in the, _I’m just a loser, nobody will ever love me for who I am as a person_ but rather in the _it would be nice to have someone I can share my deepest secrets (or mindless conversations?) with_.

Deciding that it is too late to sulk, he does what he does best. He eats. Or more specifically, he picks up his phone and calls up the only restaurant — a Chinese food restaurant, a few streets away from his building — willing to deliver him food at one a.m. and as soon as the chirpy voice of the girl that always picks up his calls breezes through the speaker, he asks for a bunch of _jiaozi_ with a variety of fillings, some fried rice with a lot of vegetables in it. Before placing his order, he checks his fridge and ultimately decides to order some steamed buns as well. He can have those for breakfast. Soon enough, the call is over and he is left to wait for his food to arrive.

Instead of going back to laying on the couch, he opts to grab a hoodie, putting it on, not even bothering to lower the hood from the top of his head. He finds his keys and wallet on the little table right next to the door, making sure he has enough cash to pay for his meal and leaves his apartment. It’s a bothersome feat, but he has to do everything on his power to no not let any trace of this moment. If his manager gets a hold of him ordering food from a place the company hasn’t approved of yet, he would be done for. He doesn’t think they would let it slide even if he came clean and admitted that he did it because he was sulking late at night.

He makes it to the building’s lobby and not even five minutes after he gets there, he feels rather than hears, the telltale sign of the front doors being opened as a cold breeze fills the entirety of the space he is in. With it, enters a boy that looks underdressed for the frosting weather, carrying a big bag of what looks like takeout containers and then things click in Jaemin’s head: that must be the delivery boy. Jaemin doesn’t know why, but he rushes to meet him in the middle.

Once he reaches who he assumes is the person meant to dispatch his food he can’t help but notice how inherently pretty he is. Boyish features adorn his face and holy _shit_ he is actually kind of _tiny_? Jaemin wills the thoughts away, but once the boy finally looks his way, he can tell that even under his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes glitter under the unforgiving harsh lights of the foyer.

“Mister… Nana?” The boy asks, and _oh man_ , the sound of his voice is soothing. He calls out for Jaemin — _Nana_ , again and that’s enough to snap him out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” Jaemin responds. He would like to deny it, but he sounds a little out of breath, “That would be me, yes.” 

The boy merely nods, and proceeds to list out Jaemin’s order. Jaemin is still too stunned to process what he is saying so he opts to just _nod and smile, nod and smile._

“...that would be 11,000 won,” the boy finishes what must be his everyday speech and looks at Jaemin as if he has grown a second head. Jaemin blinks back and the boy scoffs but there’s a hint of a smile adorning his features, “You must be really tired, _Nana.”_

“Huh?” Jaemin’s sound of confusion resonates within the walls of the lobby, his dignity and sanity both thrown out of the place. The boy clad in a way-too-big cardigan laughs this time, unashamed. He should be annoyed by Jaemin’s antics but he _isn’t_. He finds Jaemin’s inability to interact with a good-looking person endearing, or so he thinks. Jaemin can’t help but bite back a smile as he waits for the boy’s laughter to die down.

Jaemin decides that he has entertained the boy long enough and fishes a 20,000 won bill out of his wallet, paying for his meal and _insisting_ that the boy must keep the change. He nods at Jaemin’s insistence, and thanks him as he hands him the bag full of food. 

Jaemin’s got no game, but he sure as hell is going to try and shoot his shot.

“Wait,” he calls. The boy seems confused, but he still looks at Jaemin with something akin to expectation in his eyes, “I know you might get this often and it’s okay if you find it — _me_ , weird, but — what’s your name?” Jaemin physically winces once he registers the words that left his mouth, but the boy’s eyes glitter with amusement.

“It’s Renjun,” he says, voice soft, almost content, “You’re lucky you’re cute even when you are wearing your hood up, otherwise I would have walked out of here the moment I saw you,” he adds and for the first time in what feels like _years_ , Jaemin blushes.

“That must mean you only came inside the building because you thought I was attractive, doesn’t it?” 

Jaemin deserves the slap he gets on his arm after that. 

Nonetheless, it feels lighthearted, almost like banter, and only God knows when was the last time Jaemin had the chance to have a moment like this.

Jaemin laments when the comfortable silence is interrupted by Renjun’s ringtone.

“I have to go now, duty calls,” Renjun frowns, and Jaemin doesn’t really want to let him go just like that.

“Can I get your number?” he asks instead of bidding him farewell. Renjun’s head shakes slightly and even if he doesn’t say it, his action feels like an unspoken challenge.

“You’ll have to earn it, pretty boy.”

And just like that, Jaemin realizes he’s into whatever game Renjun wants to play.

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into a rhythm after that.

Two people attracted to each other but refusing to do anything about it. A play of tug-of-war. The audience placing their bets on who’s going to break first.

Jaemin makes sure to order once a week at the same hour every single time.

Sometimes the person delivering his food isn’t who he expects it to be, but he must admit that he enjoys the thrill. Not knowing what’s coming for him next.

However, the times in which fate decides to stop being a little _bitch_ , he falls into easy conversation with Renjun in front of his building. Renjun even lets him walk him to his (the restaurant's?) car once.

Jaemin’s eagerness encourages Renjun’s attempts at turning him down. Their personalities — a perfect match. Jaemin is always left wanting more and Renjun has his fun playing hard to get.

And even if Jaemin’s the one actively chasing for Renjun, he can’t help but notices that sometimes he’s the cat, some other times he’s the mouse in this game they are playing — but Jaemin is determined to win no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> i expect this fic to have three chapters at most but i honest to god have zero sense of self-control so we'll see! (o_ _)ﾉ彡☆
> 
> do subscribe! i'll be posting the rest after reveals (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ


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